


Our American Cousin

by likesflowers



Category: Black Panther (2018), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Gen, It's Hard to Be King, Siblings, T'Challa's Bright Idea
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-14
Updated: 2018-02-14
Packaged: 2019-03-18 07:52:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,829
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13677447
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/likesflowers/pseuds/likesflowers
Summary: “What are you talking about? You went to South Korea and brought back a CIA agent for us to repair, of course we are going to heal a member of the Wakandan royal family who is injured IN WAKANDA.” She paused, then poked at the wound a bit more aggressively than was probably necessary. “Even if he is a psychopath.”





	Our American Cousin

T’Challa had a frown on his face as he looked at the man lying on the table, unconscious. He’d been standing there just out the way for over five minutes.

“ _What_ are you looking at?” Shuri asked as she bustled over with another piece of machinery. “He won’t wake up for another two hours, at the earliest. You are only getting in my way. Shoo.”

T’Challa seemed to come back from whatever he’d been thinking about, but his eyes were still fixed on the man’s bleeding stomach. “Saving him...it is the right thing to do, yes? I’m not making a mistake?” 

Shuri used her foot to push aside a pile of broken glass from the window and leaned over to look at the stomach wound, but her eyes flicked quickly to her brother’s face. “What are you talking about? You went to South Korea and brought back a CIA agent for us to repair, of course we are going to heal a member of the Wakandan royal family who is injured IN WAKANDA.” She paused, then poked at the wound a bit more aggressively than was probably necessary. “Even if he is a psychopath.”

T’Challa looked at Shuri then, and she knew her brother well enough to know he was trying to figure out how to defend the man when he actually agreed with everything she had just said. He opened his mouth. Closed it. Tried again. “He said he’d rather die than be imprisoned. What right do I have to take that from him?” 

Shuri didn’t laugh, but she might as well have. “He’ll thank us for it eventually. Or not; but who would you be, had you let him die of a wound you knew quite well could be treated so easily in our lab? That is all you can take responsibility for, brother.” She paused. “If he could be trusted not to KILL EVERYONE we wouldn’t even have to lock him up. I’m sure he’ll see that eventually.” 

T’Challa gave a hollow chuckle. “I’m not so sure of that, Shuri. In some ways, it would almost be easier if he _had_ died, or if we tucked him away in the freezer for…” He stopped, eyes wide as he connected the dots with the wrecked lab around him. 

A split second later, Shuri shot up with a gasp, clearly realizing the same thing. They both started running up the spiral ramp. Unsurprisingly, T’Challa reached the doorway to cold storage first, and he didn’t have to wait for Shuri to punch in the key code, primarily because the door was missing a chunk forty centimeters in diameter. He reached through to grab the handle from the other side, but through the hole he could see the cryo-chamber, condensation forming where it shouldn’t to fog the window. By the time Shuri reached him, he was standing beside the fogged-over glass, trying to wipe enough leaking fluid off the monitor while keeping an eye on all the loose cables. Clearly, on of the blasts that had been aiming for Ross had managed to catch the door to the cryolab and straight through it to the control panel. It was a miracle the pod itself hadn’t been hit. T’Challa wasn’t familiar enough with the tech’s specs to know how much damage it had taken or how long it would take to repair, but the consequences were potentially...very bad. 

Shuri took one look at the monitor and gave a frustrated shriek. “Gah!” she said.

T’Challa turned to her, incredulous. “Did you really just say ‘gah!’?” 

She narrowed her eyes. She probably would have flipped him off, but apparently the situation was urgent because she just moved around to the other side of the pod, making a face as she stepped in the pool of what was probably water. She tapped a few buttons next to the handle, made a strange sound that was half frustration and half relief. “Well. I have never sounded more like a character in a film, but I have good news and I have bad news.”

T’Challa looked at her but didn’t speak. She could monologue without his help. 

“The pod wasn’t hit directly, so both it and the contents are intact and undamaged. That’s the good news. The bad news is that the cryo-reserve was completely destroyed; the thawing process has already begun and should complete in less than an hour.“

“Did you refer to him as ‘the contents’?”

Shuri glared. “Shut up, it’s been a long day. But yes. He’s waking up now and we can’t stop it.”

T’Challa paused. “What if we moved him to another pod before the process completed?”

“This was our only functioning cryo-pod. I can repair it, but it’ll take time, and...there’s a lot of repair work for me to do. He’s going to be up and around for at least a couple of days. Probably weeks.”

They looked at each other, then sighed in tandem. 

“His body will recover quickly from the freezing process, probably within hours. But his mind is still the same troubled place it was when he went in. I...I don’t think being in the city right now is a good idea. Especially with your CIA man here.” Shuri spoke quietly. 

She hesitated. “I know you told me what happened in Siberia, but...Stark has a new technology that could be very helpful with the memory issues. He gave a demonstration just weeks ago at MIT. Is there any way...” 

T’Challa thought for a moment. “Someday, probably yes. Today? I’m not sure. Tony Stark lets his emotions rule him and I doubt they have quite settled yet. I will see what I can do. In the meantime, what are we to do with him? With them both?”

Shuri paused for a moment. “Erik is difficult politically, making him your problem, not mine. You alone are going to have to figure out what to do with him once I get that wound repaired, O wise king.” The title should have sounded like a joke, but it didn’t. T’Challa wasn’t sure what to do with that. “About Barnes? I can take him out to the lake district. It’s quiet and they always need an extra hand, and he’s got one to give oh my I cannot believe I made that pun, I am so sorry.” She covered her mouth with one hand but it didn’t quite cover her smile. “Sorry Barnes!” she hissed at the pod.

A double rap from inside answered her.

Both Shuri and T’Challa jumped. 

“Shit shit shit shit” she hissed. “Barnes, can you hear me? Two for yes, one for no.”

T’Challa gave her a weird look even as he heard two raps from the case.

“Okay, good. We had...a minor malfunction on the equipment and are waking you up until it can be repaired. Don’t panic, everything’s just fine and we’ll have you out in no time.” She tried the handle to the pod. “Shit.”

She took a deep breath even as she waved her hand at T’Challa frantically, then mouthed the word “screwdriver!” while her eyes screamed “you idiot.” When she was talking to Barnes, however, her voice was calm and confident. “Part of the malfunction is on the handle, so it will take just a few more moments. If you hear some noises, that’s just my screwdriver. We’ll have you out in a jiffy.”

T’Challa handed her a screwdriver he’d picked up from the floor. “A jiffy?” he mouthed back at her.

“Shut up!” She mouthed back before turning her attention to the handle.

A minute and a half later, she gave a sharp shout of triumph. “Got it!” She pulled it open, releasing a cloud of cold steamy air. “Hey Barnes!” 

From where T’Challa was standing, he could see the man, skin still pale and with ice crystals in his hair. His eyes were open, his uncoordinated hand reaching to knock on the door that’s no longer in front of him. 

His voice was strange when he spoke. “Is this...I don’t think we’re in Kansas anym…” His eyes closed and his hand dropped. 

“Shit” Shuri hissed for what had to be the thousandth time. She already had her arm up to scan him. “Oh, ok. It’s fine. The thawing process usually takes six to nine hours and we managed it in one. His body isn’t liking the strain is all. A little rest and he’ll be fine.”

T’Challa sighed in relief. “You should take him to the lakes as soon as possible. Is he able to be moved now?”

She looked around the room. “Of course! But I’m not carrying him. Where is that stretcher?”

 

\-------------------

 

T’Challa wanted to collapse in exhaustion, but he couldn’t yet. There were still too many loose ends, and he still had no idea what to do about Erik. His cousin. Nearly his murderer. So, he did what most people would do--he decided to procrastinate with another task, one he would normally put off forever if possible. 

He picked up the phone, somehow still sitting neatly on the office desk after all the chaos of the last few days. He dialled the number from memory, mentally rehearsing how he could start the conversation.

“Rogers.”

T’Challa kept his voice even. “Captain, it is good to hear your voice.”

“You too. Is everything okay?” Rogers clearly knew that T’Challa wouldn’t call without a reason.

“We are fine. I thought I should tell you, though--we had an...incident, the cryopod was damaged--”

Rogers jumped in. “Is he hurt? Do you need to me to come back?”

“No, he is fine, but we had to take him out of the chamber while it undergoes repairs. I just thought I should tell you, since you entrusted him to me.”

Rogers paused for a moment, clearly thinking. T’Challa can hear something rumbling in the background, possibly a train or a car. Some kind of engine. “Thank you for telling me, highness. I can be there in under twelve hours.”

T’Challa had a sudden vision of Ross and Rogers bumping into each other in the hallways of the palace. 

Then he had an even more horrifying vision of Rogers and Erik bumping into each other in the hallway. The universe would probably not survive their combined sense of injustice and dramatics. 

He quickly choked out a reply before Rogers could start packing. “Unnecessary, my friend, and potentially harmful for you to return at the moment, for us all.” He thought that might have come on a little too harsh. “I have a...sensitive political visitor at the moment, entirely unrelated to your Sergeant Barnes. Your presence would not help him or you. If you wish, I will tell him you wish to speak with him once the recovery process is complete.”

Rogers sighed. “You don’t have to do that--he knows I want to talk with him, it’s him that doesn’t want to talk with me. Just--tell him I said hi, I guess. If he asks. Don’t pressure him to contact me.” 

T’Challa didn’t know either man well enough to refute that claim, but he suspected it was a little more complicated than that.

“I will do so. And if anything changes, I will let you know immediately. Do not worry, he is in good hands.” 

T’Challa could hear the odd note--grief and worry and gratitude and regret--in the other man’s voice as he said goodbye. “Thank you again, highness, for everything. Rogers out.” 

T’Challa gazed out the window of the office long after he heard the dial tone. 

He was still frowning out at the city when he heard two gentle knocks on the open doorway behind him. He turned and saw the other white boy his sister had healed this week standing there. 

“Your majesty? How are you?”

T’Challa sighed. “Tired.” He wasn’t sure why he was being honest like that with this man--he wasn’t a friend by any stretch, but he trusted him. In some ways. In others, the opposite of trust. Nonetheless, he was tired, and one of the ways he trusted Ross was to understand that without taking advantage of it. At least, not today.

Ross moved into the room slightly, a weary smile on his own face. “I hear that’s going around.” A pause. “What are you going to do about Stevens?”

He met Ross’s even gaze. “Why do you want to know?”

Ross didn’t flinch or look away. “We have...there is a location specifically designed for securing individuals with unusual abilities. He won’t trouble your kingdom again.” 

T’Challa was a little ashamed that the first emotion he felt at that suggestion was relief. The whole situation could just...go away. It would--NO. The second emotion came right on the heels of the first and overwhelmed it. He felt a little sick to his stomach, the feeling was so strong.

“No, that is a not a solution I am willing to make.” 

Ross tilted his head. “Your majesty, with all due respect, it’s not just your choice. He’s one of ours.”

T’Challa felt the anger of the day boil up as if out of nowhere, his voice raising just below a shout. “He is also one of ours! He may be lost and troubled, but Wakanda does not abandon her own.” He paused, speaking almost to himself. “Not anymore.” 

“Will you be able to contain him?” 

T’Challa didn’t know. But handing him over to Ross and his prison was not an option, of that he was sure. “I will find a way.”

Ross looked skeptical, but didn’t question it directly. Instead, he looked away for a long moment. When he looked back, he looked defeated. “If you change your mind, you have my number.”

T’Challa inclined his head in acknowledgement of the offer. Ross nodded once, gave what was almost but simultaneously clearly not a bow, then left.

T’Challa gave himself one minute to relax with his eyes closed, enjoying the quiet, before heading downstairs. He stopped one of the guards and quietly gave her instructions on how to prepare the guest room, then continued on to the lab, where Shuri was tending a now nearly-awake Erik. 

“T’Challa! All sorted?” 

T’Challa found himself nodding, even though, in reality, very little was sorted out. 

Shuri smiled, surprisingly chipper. “Great news! I hope you have a plan for our American cousin, because he’ll be awake in about 10 minutes.”

T’Challa sighed. “Can he be moved now, before he wakes up?” 

Shuri looked up. “I suppose, sure. Why?”

“Because if he wakes up on that table and sees me, he will undoubtedly try to kill us both. I’d like to avoid that happening again--today, at least.”

Shuri nodded. “Okay, that makes sense, but...You’re not really going to throw him in prison forever, right?”

T’Challa realised that he was going to spend the next few weeks explaining his decision over, and over, and over again. “No. I’m going to put him in the nicest guest room we have that he will be safe in and unable to kill anyone from, and then I’m going to help him get to know Wakanda as something other than just the magical land of an exile’s fairy tales. And then, when he stops trying to kill me, I intend to open the doors to his room myself.”

For a long, long moment, Shuri looked at him, although he wasn’t sure what she was looking for. Finally, she smiled. “Fine. I’ll do the tech briefings as long as you don’t make me touch the history stuff. Capish?” 

He just looked at her. Maybe he was too tired to process what she was saying, but he didn’t know what she was talking about. 

“With Erik? You’re not going to hog all the time getting him up to date or he’ll think the whole country is a terrible bore.” She paused. “Like YOU.”

T’Challa had a witty comeback but a faint movement on the table below cut him off. 

“He’ll be awake in about five minutes unless I give him another sedative. His room ready?”

“Yes, I’ll take him up.” 

Shuri just gave him a look. “You are not running off with our American cousin all by yourself. I’ll go with you.”

T’Challa knew about picking his battles, and this was not one he had energy for today. “Fine, but I’m pretty sure if you keep calling him ‘our American cousin’ he will wake up and strangle you first.”

When he was settled on the bed in the secured room, Shuri ran one last scan and pronounced him basically fine. The both backed out of the room quietly.

“So, have you figured out yet how you’re going to tell Mother about our American cousin?”

From inside the room, there came a gentle thump, like a hand hitting a forehead, and then an outraged shout. 

T’Challa smiled. “Told you not to call him that.”


End file.
